Of Mutants and Men
by scarlett onyx
Summary: After being turned into Scarebeast, Jonathan Crane is mistaken for a mutant by the X-Men. Will they be able to 'cure' him? DISC. DON'T OWN ANYTHING
1. Monster

Logan did not particularly like cities.

They were overcrowded; full of people bustling this way and that, even at night.

And Gotham was no different.

Despite the repeated warnings by political officials, as well as several officers of the law, some Gothamites still chose to wander the treacherous streets long after most sane folk were in bed.

He'd been sent here on a mission to track down a monster-like being that seemed cute right out of an urban legend.

Except that legends didn't kill people.

Logan, as well as the rest of his team, had reason to believe that this 'monster' could very well be one of the most dangerous mutants they had ever encountered.

And that was saying something.

But, at the moment, it seemed to have disappeared.

Logan stood in a narrow alleyway, back against the brick wall behind him and unsheathed the three adamantium claws on each hand that had inspired his title of Wolverine.

He watched the indestructible metal glinting in the moonlight, heightened senses ever alert for the smallest of sounds.

A sewer rat the size of an overfed Chihuahua skittered over his foot, seeming completely unconcerned about the consequences of interacting with a human.

Logan curled his lip in disgust. The sooner he found this monster and got out of here, the better.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a low sound, similar to a wail, alerted him to another presence.

He took another step back, pressing himself completely against the wall.

Chances were, what, or whoever was making the sound couldn't do anything to injure him, at least not permanently. Super fast healing abilities saw to that, but it was still best to have the element of surprise on his side.

The wailing was growing louder, a high-pitched keening whine that grated on Logan's ears.

It was coming from…above him?

Turning to his right, he gripped the bottom of a fire-escape, hauling himself up and nimbly climbing the rungs.

Very slowly, he moved his head upwards, eyes level with the roof of the building.

And there before him, stood what he had come for. A massive being that could only be described as a beast loomed on the top of the roof, its claw-like hands coated with a deep red liquid that Logan somehow knew wasn't paint.

Its body was huge and yet terrifyingly scrawny in places; covered in a cloth that looked like bits of burlap crudely stitched together and spattered with the same crimson liquid covering its hands.

The eyes were like two dying coals in their sockets, edged with a red/gold flame.

Overall, the brute looked like some sort of grotesque scarecrow out of a horror film.

And it was Logan's job to catch him.

Eyes narrowing, he waited until the monster was facing the other way, gaping mouth still open in its feverish howl and pulled himself onto the roof, crouching momentarily before leaping, claws extended.

"I'd shut up, bub!"

The monster turned, eyes seeming to flash a bloody scarlet as he met his attacker with a swipe of his hand.

Logan dodged the blow, dancing to the side.

"Come on, now. I don't wanna have to hurtcha…"

Seemingly deaf to the words, the beast lunged again, this time managing to connect with Wolverine's chest; knocking him flat against the AC unit on the roof.

Growling, Logan leaped up again, about to launch another attack when the monster suddenly stumbled, its hands reaching up to claw at its head as the wailing sound intensified.

Logan watched, dumfounded as the piercing sound heightened until it was almost a scream, then felt his eyes widen as the beast sank to its knees, shrinking into itself until it fell before him.

Before he knew it, the wailing had lessened to a small, mournful sound, barely a moan and the beast was gone.

Shaking his head, Logan crouched beside the painfully thin, unconscious man who had taken its place and closed his eyes to concentrate.

"_Hey, Chuck? We got a situation." _


	2. The Thought That Counts

_He was floating, then drowning, in a sea of confusion. _

_Yet, even through the haze of disorientation, he came to know two central facts._

_One- he couldn't move. Two- he hurt. All over._

_Varying degrees of pain flooded through him, sometimes, a violent, throbbing agony, other times, only a persistent, dull ache. _

_Once, he felt something like a cool cloth over his body, taking the pain away for a brief moment. _

_Every once in awhile, he thought he could hear snatches of conversation._

_But, the content of it was so absurd, that he knew it must have just been his imagination._

"I do not know what he was doing, Professor, but I cleaned and bandaged him. Not all of that blood was his, thank goodness, but he is very weak."

"Thank you, Ororo." a soft voice with a slight British accent replied, its gentle tones nearly soothing him further into unconsciousness.

But, the next words filled his mind with confusion.

"I shall try to find what he was up to in his thoughts. Perhaps, he was attacked."

_His…thoughts?_

Before he could muse any more about the subject, a strange feeling stole over him.

_Wha-_

"_Calm._" that same soothing voice from before murmured. But, this time, it was…different.

Closer.

_Like it was inside his-_

"_Are you in my head?_"

A sudden calming wave slipped over him like a warm blanket.

"_Please, calm down…Jonathan. I am only here to help. I see you can sense my presence. Can you hear my voice outside of your mind? Other's voices?_"

"_Sometimes…_"

"_Good. Then, you may wake up soon._"

"_Can't…can't you wake me up if you can…do this?_"

"_Yes, but in your condition, you need to rest._"

"_What do you mean, 'in my condition'? What happened? Who are you?_"

The calm seemed to fade and he began to panic internally. _Where was he? What-_

"_Shh…_" the whispered voice in his head resumed, the blanket of calm covering him once more. "_Please, calm down, Jonathan. I assure you, you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you. You were simply using your powers and got…hurt. But, don't worry. We will help you._"

"_Powers? I…don't understand…_"

A sigh that was not his own echoed around in his mind, but it held no condescending hint in it. Instead, it contained only concern. Pity. Gentleness.

He felt himself relax, once more.

"_I promise, I will explain everything._"

"…_Alright…_"

The voice withdrew and he felt his own tired mind retreating, as well.

_Even if this was some crazed dream, the soothing voice was a thousand times better than a nightmare._


End file.
